All Through the Night
by Adi88
Summary: Dreams have been called microscopes through which we view our souls... Sometimes, others use them instead. Only one is awake to battle everyone's monsters, and he's the one who created them. [Inverse.]
1. Don't Say a Word

AN: IT'S ALIVE! I am alive and I do still write. So there are just two things we should address before the story.

a) You know how some things have warnings, like, "lemon, lime, shojo-ai, non-con" or whatever? Well, this needs a warning: Weirdness. Seriously, this what happens when you put _Fruits Basket_ through the "Restless" strainer in my head, which for those of you who have yet to experience the Whedonverse means that it's pretty much all dreams. This is all metaphor, illogicality, and thought-process.

b) The sources. I am an expert at plagiarism, but this… takes the cake. I can't possibly credit everyone who deserves it in these little notes, so if anyone wants to know where all these things come from, let me know and I'll go through and label the bits – gonna do it for someone in particular anyway, so… But fair warning; this will be a lot easier to understand if you know your musicals, fairy tales, and _Buffy_.

Dedication: Windswift. I don't think she's got one yet, and the genius deserves one. This, then, is my humble offering. She's on this site, people, go on and check it out.

Disclaimer: I own nothing here but the exact phraseology. The biggies are; Natsuki Takaya (_Furuba_), Sir Harold Boulton ("All Through the Night"), Raikune (_Storm_, on this site), Joss Whedon ("Restless", "Fear, Itself," and all other dream or fear episodes), and last but nowhere near least, Katia-chan – also on this site – and her incomparable _Ivory_. It sorta pushed the buttons, darling, nothing too blatantly stolen, I hope… Mostly in the second part… Except for the weather. Which is also from _Storm_, but not entirely by any means, so.

For more on "All Through the Night," the song, see bottom.

* * *

_All Through the Night_

Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee,

All through the night;

Guardian angels God will send thee,

All through the night;

Safe the drowsy hours are creeping,

Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,

I my loving vigil keeping,

All through the night.

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While the moon her watch is keeping,

All through the night;

While the weary world is sleeping,

All through the night;

O'er thy spirit gently stealing,

Visions of delight revealing,

Breathes a pure and holy feeling

All through the night.

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Hark, a solemn bell is ringing,

Clear through the night;

You, my love, are heav'nward winging,

Home through the night.

Earthly dust from off thee shaken,

By good angels art though taken;

Soul immortal shalt thou waken,

Home through the night.

* * *

Part One:

Don't Say a Word

0. Prologue

Many children are afraid in the dark. In fact, many adults are afraid of the dark, but eventually the majority of us push this primordial terror out of the way as impractical. Children do not have our – as Virginia Woolf might phrase it – "perspective."

So children are the ones known for their fear of the dark.

They might be afraid of the loneliness in it, the gap it puts between themselves and any companionship previously only as far as the next room, now an ocean of black away.

They might be afraid of the darkness itself, a huge, amorphous creature prowling the halls like a drowsy but rapacious beast, spreading tendrils like fingers into every nook where a nightlight goes out.

They might be afraid of the things the darkness hides. Things change when the dark hides them; every child knows that. Closets become portals, coats and hats hung on doorframes become Der Kindestod. Clothes twisted on the floor become Midgard Serpents. Innocent dolls' eyes gleam in the light that lets you see the darkness, and floorboards sigh the words of a house that is hungry.

These are the classics, brought to life in the films of countless men and women who realize that we never kill these fears. We just bury them.

The worst, though, are the ones we can't see. No coat, no half-open door, no malevolent doll with a broken, frozen smile. Just the feeling, the knowledge that while your back is turned something is behind you. You can't turn around fast enough to catch it; it will always be behind you until it's too late, and then you'll wish you hadn't seen it. It gets closer and now you can hear it, can feel the fingers a breath from your neck, and maybe this time the blankets aren't going to protect you –

These are not the things, even at the age of eleven, which frighten Sohma Akito in the dark.

Loneliness might frighten him – more than anything else, in the end – but he has never truly felt it.

No mere lack of light can keep him from any of his juunishi. Darkness itself is the closest thing he has to a casual friend. It's comforting and dependable. He lives in and thrives on it, but he would exist without it. Unlike the other things he counts as his own. He won't contemplate losing these.

He is not afraid of the things the darkness hides. Nothing lies abandoned in this house of so many servants in any case, but even if it did… he has an excellent memory and no imagination. A coat is a piece of tailored cloth; an open door leads to nothing but the next room and he distinctly recalls leaving it open himself.

Least of all is he afraid of unknown things behind him. The susurration in the black… he knows what these things are, with freezing or burning fingers, voices made of tears, souls made of hope, and minds made of memory and what-ifs, no pinch of "now" existing.

They're nightmares.

And they're not his.

I. Kureno

When the lightening rips through the sky for the first time, it wakes Akito. The thunder has been roaring for hours, the sound of the sky tearing like wet tissue vibrating the house, and now it has finally gone through and a piece of sun screams through before the hole is sealed.

The wind, too, has been rattling windows, whistling and howling, and still is. Trees lose branches; tiles leave the roof.

Still, it's the light that wakes him.

He sits for a moment, skeletal arms clutched around his own shoulders, shuddering, heart cold with fear. He can feel tears in his eyes and blinks rapidly, clutching the blanket. The wind rattles, thunder rolls, and lightening hisses down with the hail.

Akito has his own fears; he is certain of this. But at night, when it storms, he can't remember them.

* * *

_I stare down into the coal-black eyes glinting up at me. "Kureno," my god says, "tell me a story."_

"_Another one?" I glance at Gure-niisan. He looks… tired. _

"_Yes. You know, my Kureno, it's your turn. You have to tell me a whole story." _

"_But then there won't be time for Nii-san to finish his." _

_A wraithlike hand floats up to caress my face from where he lies, head in my lap. "Then each of you get to live one more night. Isn't that the bargain?" _

_Yes. Yes, of course I know… I remember. _

_I remember… _

_So I speak, and tell a story. My story has a happy ending. And then Nii-san tells his story, but it doesn't have an ending or a plot, it's just things happening, one after the other. His is true. His is right. _

_I wish mine were, but it isn't, and my happy ending is made of lead that not all the alchemists in the world could change to gold. But it glitters like a rising sun. _

"_You won," Nii-san whispers in my ear. "Congratulations." _

"_It was just a story," I say. "It isn't meant to be taken seriously. It's just a metaphor." _

"_There is no such thing," he answers with a hollow laugh, "as_ just_ a metaphor. You can be killed by windmills or giants, and it doesn't matter, Kureno-kun. You'll still be dead." _

"_I like this ending," Akito says, tossing a paperweight with little people inside. _

"_It's not a toy if you choose it. You'll make it real." _

"_It might be real," he says, leaning over me, close enough to kiss, "but it's still my toy." _

* * *

These are not his fears. 

He crawls slowly to the other side of his futon. He doesn't like to sleep alone, and even as he gets older and people start to hesitate, and Shigure's jokes get him smacked harder because everyone worries that they won't just be jokes for long, he can still avoid it. He can do anything he likes, after all.

So he puts a hand that he can't quite stop from shaking on the shoulder of the older boy, muttering fitfully in his sleep, and rolls him from his side onto his back, burying his fingers in the comforting cloth.

He wishes that Kureno would wake, warm brown eyes and concerned words, warm arms around him even though, of course, he doesn't need them, not at eleven, not because of some fit the weather throws. But he only sighs in his sleep, face twisting.

Akito leans down and lays his forehead against the bird juunishi's own.

He feels the fear, sees the visions, makes them his, and smiles.

"You will not win," he says.

And Kureno stops dreaming.

II. Yuki

Akito clenches his teeth and fights to breathe slowly, evenly; tells himself that he is not drowning. He could scream right now if he wanted to, and everyone within hearing distance would come running to his call. They would listen to him, because he can speak.

He pushes back the covers reluctantly, leaving what warmth and comfort Kureno can offer from catatonia. The pulse in his throat throbs; his heart races as if there's a finish line, as if this will ever stop for good. For good…

No, almost – almost, he can say he prefers this.

At any other time, the answer would be definite. He wants everything of theirs. It's just right now, with the wind screaming like the _bean sidhe_, the hail pounding like fists on a door that won't open, and the lightening…

* * *

_I'm sitting on the porch, legs dangling over the edge. When Akito sits like this, his feet go almost to the ground, but mine are barely halfway there. The water, though, is creeping up the edge of the house, and pretty soon I guess my feet will be touching it. Then I'll be as tall as he is. _

"_No you won't," my mother says, glancing over her shoulder from where she's talking to Shigure-niisan and Hatori-niisan. "Don't start thinking like that, Yuki." Now it's Akito talking, though he stays the same height and age as my mother. "You mustn't be mistaken. It makes you look stupid." He sighs and turns back to them. "So Yuki's job is settled?" _

_Hatori nods and they keep talking, and Shigure looks at me. _

_I shake my head. I want to say I don't want that job. _

_But he reaches up and takes off his mask, and underneath everything is exactly the same except he's not smiling and his eyes are cold. _

_The water closes around my ankles. I look down and it's black. I want to get out of it. _

"_Gross! It's cold and sticky!" _

_I look over and the boy, the cat, the red-head… Kyo… is sitting there too. He's still yelling. _

"_Get me out of it! It's nasty!" _

_The man I've seen him with, the one with the ponytail and green yukata, smiles and picks him up. "Okay, Kyo. Relax, it will come off." _

_The water is up to my knees, sliding over the edge of the porch and wrapping around me. I open my mouth and nothing comes out. _

"_Come in." The words sound more like a prediction than a request or even an order. Akito is in the water, and something closes around my ankle, hidden in the inky black. _

_It looks cold._

_He frowns. "It is." _

_I turn my head to look at them, but they're gone. Only… Ayame, the boy who looks like me only… more, more beautiful, more strong, more here… Only he is left. He's looking at something I can't see, and smiling. _

_I put my hand around the cuff of his pants and it slips through, intangible. _

_The water is up to my chest. _

_Akito puts his hand on my cheek. "See, I don't go through." _

_The water is over our heads, and everything looks green now. He smiles as I drown. And I smile back. _

* * *

These are not his fears. 

Now…

He walks very carefully, because he will not run. He is dizzy with compounded terrors, but he can only take one step at a time. And it isn't far to Yuki's room, not far at all.

He pushes the door open and kneels beside the smaller boy's futon, clenching his fists until his fingers cease trembling and only then laying a hand on the hot, dry forehead above eyes twitching in fevered nightmares.

He feels the fear, sees the visions, makes them his, and smiles.

"You will not be silent," he says.

And Yuki stops dreaming.

III. Shigure

Potential energy can be due to position. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, or put another way, the higher they are. What good is the sky to a creature who'll never do better than crawl? But Shigure has seen the sky and he wants it.

He has a very long way to fall, and he's barely begun climbing. So Akito goes to him next, though it is a bit out of his way, because he thinks that maybe he will be able to breathe long enough to get to the others without this vague, suffocating terror.

* * *

"_You know, you really don't have to do this," I say. _

_Akito shrugs, turning down the corner of the sheet. "Tuck in the corner." _

_I comply with a grin, or I mean to. I can't feel my face, so I'm not sure. The room is smiling for me, though, filled with butter-yellow sunshine, and it laces itself around my fingers as I tuck the blanket in at the foot of the bed under. Funny, I don't feel the warmth. _

"_There," he says, standing and surveying it judiciously. His shirt is violently red against the yellow and white room. _

_My eyes are level with his, his height equaling mine. I meet them and find I've said, "It'll just get dirty again." _

"_Cleanliness is next to godliness," he says. "You should be able to manage that much." He turns away and looks into the mirror, where Kureno is reflected back at him. "He can help me next time" Akito shrugs again, not a gesture he makes often, and it disorients me. Then he winces and turns to face me with a frown. "Aren't you ever going to take this thing out?" _

_I look at his back in the mirror, and the knife between his shoulder blades. I don't know how it got there. _

_He says something, and I don't hear it. I shake my head, ask him to repeat it. _

_He's holding the knife now, and Aya doesn't seem to see it, chattering away at Ha-san again. _

"_Akito," I try, and though he doesn't acknowledge me I continue, "I'm sorry." _

The knife slides into Aya's chest without a sound, and Ha-san just looks quietly as it turns on him. Akito stands and looks down at their bodies, with his back to me again, and murmurs, "Why? It's not your fault." He lifts his head, turns it until it is silhouetted against the sunlight with blood streaking down from an empty socket, and adds, "After all, you didn't do anything."

* * *

These are not his fears. 

Flashes, those are all he gets. Not cohesive images, inasmuch as any dream is cohesive at all. What he does get the full force of is the feeling. Feeling_s_, rather. So many of them…

He's glad he doesn't see much of the images, right now.

Akito doesn't know this room as well; Shigure usually comes to him, so often and casually that it never occurs to him to go to these rooms unless he needs to… get away from his. Even then, it is more of a habit to find Hatori, who will answer him instead of asking questions.

So in the dark, it's hard to find the futon without stumbling over something, and when lightening tears through the night again, leaving the air breathless and dry, the boy bites back something that could have been a gasp or a sob. He isn't worried that anyone will wake. They never do, not on these nights. But he still sinks his teeth into his lip until his breath is caught, and only then does he trail a finger up a fitfully twitching torso to the head, which is at this point nearer the foot of the pallet than the head, and cradle the sweat-damp cheek.

He feels the fear, sees the visions, makes them his, and smiles.

"You will not be helpless," he says.

And Shigure stops dreaming.

IV. Ayame

They're not true, the things he tells them. Not lies, maybe, because he isn't omniscient (now) and can't say for sure that the things they fear will become reality, but if they continue as they are… Yuki may not be silent, but he will never speak. Isuzu may not lose hope, but she will never triumph.

Akito has heard that lying is wrong. But "right" and "wrong" are just words, concepts that apply to other people. He does what he does to protect them. Parents lie to their children all the time; he hears about it from Isuzu, from Kisa, from Hiro and Momitchi, Ayame and Hatsuharu… from all of them whose parents care enough to lie or don't care enough to tell the truth. So many little things every day to make them think the world is a better place than it is… Well, the world is a horrible place and he knows it, and he's the only one willing to tell them the truth about it.

The thing he lies to them about – and only when they're asleep, because he won't be caught at it – is themselves.

Maybe he shouldn't. But… he does. And he always will.

* * *

_I pump the treadle and slip the shuttle in and out, in and out. The loom clacks and the blanket grows. _

_Shigure puts a hand on top of mine, and I smile. "You're going to ask about the spinning wheel, aren't you?" I mean to ask. I never do, but the words have been said, somehow._

"_You have to admit, it features prominently in more than one classic. I can think of nothing that would befit you more aptly than a tried and true testament to beauty." _

"_Shigure, can't you for once get the facts straight?" Tori-san is wearing a white mask, sitting in a chair by the window. He has a book open on his lap, but it's hard to tell if he's reading it or not. "In the other story, the wheel is the cause of –" _

"_Ha-san, the old ladies were just saying that! I mean, maybe it contributed to their… physical deterioration… but some people are just ugly. And anyway, even in the event that spinning could so transform a person, fundamentally they were doing a pretty a girl a favor above and beyond mere –" _

"_Your parents were right." Tori-san sounds amused. "You should consider a career in law. If only because you could easily turn the courtroom into a three-ring circus." _

_That's why it's so hard to see where he's looking – the sequins over the eyeholes. I wonder if he can see at all. _

"_You've been enchanting, Aya," Shigure says, "But you haven't been watching." _

_I look over my shoulder at the cradle beside the huge bed. The four-poster is curtained in cobwebs, with Mother and Father lying on it, deathly pale and not breathing visibly. _

_The cradle… I look at the loom, and at my hands. Gure-san still has one of his over mine, and where he touches is the only place that doesn't hurt, _burn _as if I've been weaving thorns. _

_I stand and pull away, the remaining cool relief dying with a burst of new pain. The baby is still in the cradle, and I pick it up gently. _

"_Not watching," Gure-san singsongs, and the baby melts away in my hands. It was made of ice, and the cold bites to my bones as the freezing water spills down, leaving my freezing-burning hands empty. Outside over there, Akito cradles Yuki and smiles. _

"_Time's up," Tori-san whispers, reaching for Gure-san's hand. He pulls him to the bed and the cobwebs part, and they lie down beside each other. Their eyes close, breaths still, skins drain. Nothing left but shells. _

_I turn and there's a huge gilt mirror on the wall, my reflection horribly vivid and alive, and the rest of the room dissolves – _

* * *

These are not his fears. 

They remind him too much of Momitchi's, too much of his own, but they are not his. Ayame's rooms are nearby. They had not been, originally, but at some point in the last decade the flamboyant nineteen-year-old had found that another room (which happened to be much nearer Shigure's) was more fitting to his splendor, with a better view and more space or some such rot. And once Ayame wrapped around something, he never let it go.

More importantly, it never seemed to want him to, and that was what made Akito as happy to avoid the snake as anything else. How did he suffocate them without incurring their resentment?

But still, he bends down and strokes the loose braid. He touches a forehead as hot and dry as his brother's.

He feels the fear, sees the visions, makes them his, and smiles.

"You will not be alone," he says.

And Ayame stops dreaming.

V. Ritsu

Dreams are not like this. Imagination does not run along these lines. Dreams do not make sense, and nightmares are never so frightening in the harsh light of day. It is usually very difficult to explain at the breakfast table the next morning why, exactly, it was so deathly horrifying when the carrot chased you through the cabbages with a pom-pom.

But on nights like this… New Year's, or a storm, and especially when both happen at once… Akito speculates (remembers) that it was a night like this, under the clouds, when an oath was taken above them.

Nights like this make dreams tell stories to him, and they're fairy stories.

Once, when he was three, Shigure read him a book of fairy stories. He had nightmares for months after, usually about Bluebeard or the children who killed the witch. After that, Shigure made up his own stories.

That doesn't stop the dreams, though. It never has, and it never will. And they're worse.

So he goes into the nearest room, hands cupped over his mouth because it makes it easier to breathe, or is supposed to, and trying to think clearly. Rationally… Or to just think on his own at all.

* * *

_They're all sitting around the table. Mother, who is dead and rotting; Father, who has propped her up against him and is smiling and laughing; all the juunishi members, crowded around Ayame-niisan in the middle. Kyo-san – the cat, part of him whispers – is even there, smiling and laughing along with everyone else as if he belongs (deserves to be) there. _

_I smile too, because it's polite and it would be awful to burden the others with my inexcusable manners on top of everything else, but I can't hear what they're saying. Or I can, but don't understand, can't remember seconds after they've said it. _

_My gaze drops to my lap, where my fingers have wrinkled the silk of my kimono. Their voices echo and flow around me, glide across my skin like water on oil, never leaving a mark. _

"_Rit-chan!" I hear that, finally, and it stays in me, making an indentation. My head snaps up. _

"_Yes?" I'm eager; I want to please. To do something right. _

_Ayame-niisan isn't even looking at me, whispering in Shigure-niisan's ear, but he waves a hand in one of his majestic gestures and says, "Pour us some tea, will you?" _

_I know I've already said I would, so I start pouring. The cup I'm holding is empty, and then it's overflowing, burning liquid that the oil inside does nothing to dispel, and I drop the pot. _

_It shatters everywhere, no shards left but dark red-stained water spreading across the floor, creeping under the table, pooling at their ankles and in the doorway, covering the entire room's light boards. _

_I gasp, tears in my eyes, and cry, "I AM SO SORRY! I DESERVE NO FORGIVENESS, I SHOULD BE PUNISHED IN THE WORST OF ALL IMAGINABLE WAYS, FLAYED AND BEATEN FOR MY PRESUMPTION IN DESTROYING YOUR WONDERFUL THING, FOR BEGGERING OUR HOUSE AND SHAMING THE FAMILY NAME!" _

_And no one even looks up. I was wrong, I caused destruction. They should stop me. They should… they should look… _

_Nothing. _

_I turn and Akito-san walks into the room, and I slump to my knees. "Akito-san –" _

_I don't move, and he does not stray from his path, but somehow he passes through where I was kneeling, and he's by without a glance. _

_My knee is bleeding, having landed in on the teapot. It's broken, so many small pieces. _

_Being cursed is all that makes them look. _

_I pick up the teacup. It's empty. _

* * *

These are not his fears.

He's wearing, Akito notes, what could be considered boys' pajamas.

The blankets are as twisted as were Shigure's, and some have fallen off the futon entirely. His parents are in the next room, and Akito worries that this spell will hold outsiders until he's kissed every last sleeping royal. So he's quiet as he picks the blanket up, shivering, and wraps it around himself for a moment, resting a hand on the troubled face. He smoothes back the auburn hair gently, replaces the blanket and pulls it up to the quivering chin.

He feels the fear, sees the visions, makes them his, and smiles.

"You will not be invisible," he says.

And Ritsu stops dreaming.

VI. Momiji

He does not like these dreams, Momitchi's. When this boy wakes in the night with tears and no breath in his small body, it is not because of Akito. Akito doubts that he is even present in these nightmares, not every time.

He is certain that he is always in the others', or at least that he causes them, but Momitchi has never had cause to fear him. He thinks that he will have to make the annoying brat work for his affection in the future. It seems to be the key to his heart – that woman rejected him out of hand, and he's never let anyone matter to him as much as she does, despite Hatsuharu throwing himself at the blonde's feet whenever he so much as whimpers, despite even Ayame being as fond of him as he can be of anyone who is not Shigure or Hatori.

And Akito. Of course Akito matters – _more_.

His room is empty, a fact Akito knows without going in, and which does not surprise him. He doesn't think the seven-year-old has slept on his own when there was another option once in his life.

Akito narrows his eyes a moment and refuses to think of his own habits where this matter is concerned.

* * *

I lie on my side on the picnic blanket, one arm over my head so that I can see my white sleeve against the dark green grass. The picnic basket is open beside me, and Mutti, Haru, Kagura-nee, Aya-niisan and Ha'ri are here. They're going through the basket, pulling things out. 

I'm hungry, but I can wait. I want to just watch for right now. The clouds are perfectly round and puffy, the sky's blue. It's warm, but there's a light breeze picking light things up and swirling them around. It's an idyllistic scene, but I don't see why it can't be real.

_I don't see the sun, but the sunlight is shining off Mutti's hair and it gleams everywhere, the most beautiful light in the world. _

"_You want some?" Haru is holding out a handful from the basket, and I take it. _

_Pictures, of me and Vati and Mutti, laughing. On the beach, at the table, at a playground. She's tucking me in, kissing me goodnight, singing me to sleep. _

_She's humming now. I know the words. _

"Hush, little baby, don't say a word,

"Mama's gonna buy you a mocking-bird

"And if that mocking-bird don't sing,

"Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring…"

_Kagura puts a finger to her lips and shakes her head. _

"_This never happened," I say. _

_The pictures blur, at first because of the tears in my eyes, and then because they're soaking the pictures themselves. I look to Mutti, but she's so blurred now I don't think it's her. Her hair is black now, and short, and she looks sharp and narrow through the blur. _

_I turn to Haru-nii, and he looks at me silently. His face is always expressionless, or at least usually, but now it looks… dull, and why is he so much older? "Don't you ever stop crying?" He asks coldly. _

_I reach out for him, hands shaking and fragile, and Ayame-niisan knocks them aside when he reaches for Yuki's shoulder between us. _

"_Oh," he says. "Excuse me." _

_I bite my lip, and try not to cry, but they keep coming, and always before they've… not helped, but someone always came. _

_Yuki stands up, pulling on Haru's hand. "Rin and Kyo need you too, you know," he says, with a glare at me. "The kid can't cry forever." _

"_Mm. He'll get over it." Haru rolls his eyes, letting Yuki pull him up and slinging an arm around his waist. _

_Mutti is holding Momo, cooing and giggling through her black hair. _

"_Mutti –" _

"_She's sleeping!" Black eyes narrow to slits. "Do not disturb her, my Momitchi." _

_And she's singing the words now. _

"_Mama's gonna buy you another today…" _

_My tears soak the blanket as Vati picks her up and twirls her, Momo still in her arms, and I don't think there is an end to their laughter. _

* * *

These are not his fears.

They come horribly close, but no.

He goes to Hatsuharu's room, which is nearby, and grimaces at the sight that greets him. The two-toned boy is sprawled with one arm around the mussed blond whose head is on his shoulder. Curled like a cat in the improbable position above their heads, legs beside Momitchi, hair tangled around Hatsuharu, is Isuzu.

He would be angry at this conspiracy, but it means that much less to travel, so he goes to Momitchi and puts his hands on either side of the clouded face, eyes gleaming beneath half-open but unconscious lids.

He feels the fear, sees the visions, makes them his, and smiles.

"You will not be unloved," he says.

And Momitchi stops dreaming.

* * *

AN: Okay! I have been a long time here, people, much with the deprivation of new stories and all the wonders they entail, and we must feed the Alice Machine or it gets cranky. So… reviews…? Please?

Next part will be all. Not too much further to go.

About this song, "All Through the Night," I have a link to a place where you can hear the tune, which I'll space out at the bottom. However, if you want a truly sob-inspiring rendition, allow me to advise the first place I heard it – Angel's "Lullaby." Of course, you have to watch at least the first eight episodes of the third season to understand this glorious ninth one, but… Well, I have yet to see anyone not do an abrupt about-turn when it comes to Holtz. You don't get to hear the whole song, and Keith Szarabajka (guy who plays Daniel Holtz) is not a singer – he sorta chants it – but the entire setting is just heartbreaking. One other little thing to do with that – the song is Welsh, the translations are varied, and the one I use is slightly different from the one we hear Holtz singing. The Welsh name is "Ar Hyd y Nos." Just for the record, I now have three conflicting reports on who wrote the lyrics and music, so… take your pick…

Link:

h t t p / w w w . k i d i d d l e s . c o m / m o u s e u m / a 0 0 2 . h t m l


	2. As the Moon Kindles the Night

AN: Right. My main concern today, best beloveds, is a song, yet again. The line "As the moon kindles the night" is from Patrick Doyle's "Kindle My Heart"; the problem is that there are at least three singers of this song and only one will do for me. Liesel Matthews is the only one who should even be allowed to sing it, I swear. For the finding of this song, see bottom – fair warning, this version isn't listed under "Kindle My Heart" to my knowledge. 

Disclaimer: I hope the lawyers are happy when I commit suicide. YOU'LL ALL BE SORRY WHEN I'M GONE! But no, I do not own Furuba, or any of the other things I've plagiarized, which, again, you can get in full for the asking.

Dedication: Remains as constant as my heart.

* * *

All Through the Night

Part Two:

As the Moon Kindles the Night

VII. Haru

Akito wants to not get up. He's very, very tired and the fear has worn off enough, with these releases, that it isn't enough to keep him awake on its own. The remainder of it wears on him still, scraping his insides raw, but only serves to make him more exhausted.

But he's not even halfway done, not yet.

He crawls around Hatsuharu's legs and brushes Isuzu's hair aside to lie at the younger boy's other side a moment, and almost instantly an arm curls around him. Even in his nightmares, Hatsuharu thinks he can take care of everyone.

* * *

"_There." I put another block in place and lean back to survey the work. "See? You can do it." _

_Rin's mouth twists. "It's not that easy for everyone," she mutters. Everything is black here, nothing but black where we float, sitting by the floor we're building of blocks for holding her up. Her hair undulates as if it's under water, blending with the nothing around us, floating in front of her face and making it look as though slices are going missing. _

"_Well, you could try," I prompt, and she shakes her head. _

_"I want you to do it."_

"_But then you won't be able to stand on it. I can't make it all or it'll be mine." _

_She looks at me and her lips pull back in a snarl. "Maybe you should –" _

" – _make one for yourself," Kyo finishes, since she's turned into him. "You're gonna look royally stupid if that cat's got one and you don't." _

"_After you finish," I say. _

"_Maybe I don't want one!" He leaps up, crimson eyes snapping. "Maybe I want to take the rat down with me like I promised!" _

"_Excuses," I say, standing up too. "But if you're going to waste my time –" _

"_What time?" Momiji blinks up at me innocently with eyes like milk chocolate. "You don't have any time, remember?" He pulls out a pocket watch. "You gave it to me." He twirls it on the end of its chain a moment, and then looks at me speculatively. "You can have it back." _

"_That's not part of the deal." _

"_Yeah." He smiles. "We'd fall then for –" _

" – _sure," Yuki finishes. He puts away the watch. "So are you going to help me or not?" His eyes are like ice. _

"_What if I don't?" _

"_Then I'll fall. You know you can't help Akito…" He shrugs. "You think I care?" _

"_No." I look at Rin, who's trying to fit a block in place. "It's upside down." _

_He smiles, one of those smiles that make everyone within viewing distance melt – or at least, they do me – and kisses my cheek. "Bye then." _

_He climbs on the floor, with Momiji, Rin, and Kyo. They've finished it. _

_I really never did take time to build one for myself. _

_They're laughing with each other while I fall. _

* * *

These are not his fears. 

Akito puts his head on the shoulder offered by simply being there and curls his fingers around the other boy's chin.

He feels the fear, sees the visions, makes them his, and smiles.

"You will not be unneeded," he says.

And Hatsuharu stops dreaming.

VIII. Isuzu

He can no more stop now than he could hold his breath until he suffocated. Too much momentum, too necessary. And still, for all that is behind him, there's too much to go, too many of them…

And they're never so pretty in the night, are they? They make such sparkling pictures in the light, so lovely you'd never think that they build their lives on him and Kyo, on what's higher and what's lower. They define themselves in such ugly ways. Not nearly so noble in sleep; every one of them fears something happening to their _me_, and they all boil down to secrets and loneliness.

He loves them that much more because he knows it. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, is it not? So he twists his vision and they're that much more exquisite when he's done.

He only wishes they could see what he sees.

* * *

_The nightgown settles over yesterday's bruises and hides them completely, floating just above my skin. I feel better for it, even though I don't like pink. But the nightgown is blue, so that's okay. _

_Haru puts a hand on my shoulder. "Wake up," he says. "You're dreaming." _

"_Don't ever say that," I snap. _

_He blinks slowly. "There's only one liar that never loses its reputation for veracity." _

_I smirk. "Gure-nii?" _

_He shakes his head solemnly. "No, they know about me. They just let themselves believe." _

_I tighten my hand on the knife and it slices deep into my palm and fingers. It's a good thing my nightgown is white, I guess. It sort of looks festive, the blood on the feather-dove background. _

"_Give it me," Akito says. _

_I'm crying from the pain, but I shake my head. "I need it. Haru needs it too." And then I laugh, because this knife is my weapon against suicide and he doesn't understand; he thinks it will be the tool of suicide. _

_He frowns. "It's a thin diet." _

_"I never meant to live on it." I glare. "You took everything else."_

"_I want that, too. I'll take its place." He's pointing at the knife. _

"_You can't. I need to get back my parents with it. You won't help me." _

"_You don't need help. You need to go back to sleep." _

"_Haru, you don't understand!" _

"_Be careful, you're getting confused again." _

"_No, I – I know I need it… to help you! I'm going to make everything better!" _

"_No, Isuzu. You're not." His hands are on my face, fingers curling in my hair. "Now give it me." _

"_No." But my conditioned response is useless, ignored by my body, and I let Akito's spider-like hand slip it away. _

_I fall down and Haru catches me. I'm out now, sleeping forever, finally, finally… _

"_I could kiss her awake." _

"_There's no hedge of fire or thorns," Shigure points out. _

_Akito reaches out and Haru hands me to him. "There doesn't need to be. That's to keep away things that might wake her." He kisses my forehead. "She never will." _

* * *

These are not his fears. 

He does not want to move, and he wouldn't have to. He could just reach up for her, and he would be able to reach the head just above his without ever leaving Haru's side.

But if he does not move now, he doesn't know that he'll be able to get up. And he will not leave them to their terrors, because they're his.

So he pushes himself to his knees and cradles Isuzu's face in both hands, fingers curling in her hair, hair that he hates in the daytime, and kisses her forehead.

He feels the fear, sees the visions, makes them his, and smiles.

"You will not lose hope," he says.

And Isuzu stops dreaming.

IX. Kisa

He makes claws of his fingers and runs them slowly down his own arms. His skin is cold, and it makes the pain strange – an uncomfortable, unmanageable feeling, far more so than in the warmth of summer.

But it keeps his eyes open, eyes that not even the adrenaline coursing through his veins can keep for him much longer. Fear can only last so long before it fades or passes into terror, or into that nebulous, constant hum at the back of one's mind.

Things are quieter now, and he has much further to go. Still, he'll do it. He always does.

* * *

I remember something. Once, a while ago, I fell. I was standing on a stool to reach the cookies on the counter because Hiro-chan wanted some too, or I would have waited. I did grab one, but the others were too far back, so I turned around halfway and gave that cookie to Hiro-chan, only it didn't work that way. I leaned too far, and I fell over to the side and banged my head. I scraped the skin off my knee, too. 

_Mama came running, and Hiro-chan started crying. Mama yelled. It upset everyone a lot. And it hurt. _

_I remember something else. Papa was home – he isn't usually, but that time he was. He said something to Mama and she started crying, and he looked at her like he looks at his folders when he closes them with a snapping sound – like he's done, and happy. _

_That probably hurt Mama. _

_And now, when I fall off the stool, I scream before I even hit the ground, and Mama's already yelling, and Hiro-chan is already crying because they know I will be hurt. _

_And now, when Papa says that, he turns to me and bends over, and says, "You pay attention, all right, Kisa-chan? Sometimes there's no blood." _

_Mama looks at him with wet cheeks and says, "Sometimes we bleed inside, and tears come out instead." _

_He rolls his eyes and walks away. He's smiling when he does. _

_I'm on the stool again, and I hold onto the countertop very carefully, because Mama and Hiro-chan are watching me with nervous eyes.  
I don't fall.  
This time, Papa pushes me. _

* * *

These are not his fears. 

Kisa is sleeping in her parents' room. This is an annoyance, but Akito walks slowly, and he is almost certain that they will not wake.

He lovingly brushes the tiny girl's hair aside, combing it into place around her porcelain face.

Her simple, childish fears are almost a relief, so far removed from his own that they make nearly no addition to his burden.

He feels the fear, sees the visions, makes them his, and smiles.

"You will not be hurt," he says.

And Kisa stops dreaming.

X. Hiro

Perhaps out of solidarity – as the parents of the youngest juunishi – Hiro's mother and father have procured a room near to those of Kisa. Akito had been vaguely annoyed when he found it, he remembers. People going behind his back, trying to keep the children together as though they can understand each other better than he can understand them… He doesn't see Kisa or Hiro, useless children, walking about in the small hours of the morning to relieve the pressure on the creaking house, cold wind sneaking in through cracks that aren't there to wrap in eddies around their ankles, insubstantial fingers with force enough to drag them down forever…

No. None of them can understand so well as he.

And yet, right now, he's grateful. He doesn't know how much farther he can walk.

* * *

_Kisa cried when her dad was mean._

_Rin cried when her parents turned into monsters. _

_Kagura cried when Kyo yelled at her. _

_People think I don't notice because I'm so little, but I do. And it scares me when they cry. They're older than me, and beautiful and perfect, and everything shatters with them. _

_Kisa is sitting in the sand at the summerhouse, watching the waves roll in and out. "You wouldn't ever, would you?" She asks, smiling at me. "You're a prince?" _

_Rin turns sideways to look in the full-length mirror, and Haru-nii throws some sand at it. "Of course he wouldn't," she says. _

_Kagura-nee twirls with her arms above her head, sand spraying around her like sparkles, and she laughs, humming. _

_I know the words. _

"As the moon kindles the night

"As the wind kindles the fire

"As the rain fills ev'ry ocean

"And the sun, the earth

"Your heart will kindle my heart…"

_But my dad does. Says mean things. _

_Akito's cold hands close on my shoulders, lips brushing my ear as he whispers, "And you know there's only one way to make him stop. To protect your mother. You have to be stronger, better, smarter, faster, crueler." _

_No one else is paying attention. _

"_Can't just put one foot over," I whisper. _

"_Then don't," he says, and I'm falling. _

* * *

These are not his fears. 

He walks over to the futon, still with rollers around the edge to keep the three-year-old from tumbling the scant inches onto the floor in his sleep, and curls his lip at the pathetic protection. Still, his hands linger on it, as if he might be wondering if all it takes to protect you from the cruelties and vagaries of the world is a set of folded blankets around your bed and the care it entails for someone to have bothered with the simplistic, idiotic attempt at defense.

And then his hands wrap around the small torso lying curled and sweating in the cocoon, the warmth doing nothing after all to keep him sheltered from his own mind and family.

He feels the fear, sees the visions, makes them his, and smiles.

"You will not be cruel," he says.

And Hiro stops dreaming.

XI. Kagura

Akito stops in the hallway, leaning against the wall, fingers white with chill and tension. He presses them against the wall as well, as if he can take strength from the bones of the house, pull it from the shingles and carving, suction it away from the memories steeping the wood and metal.

And maybe he can. Maybe.

But there's only so much strength that can fit into him at once, and his head starts to ring. So he goes on, feet dragging, heart pounding, to the next room his spinning mind can lock onto.

* * *

_"Do you want tea this morning, sweetheart?"_

_Kyo shakes his head dumbly, rustling the morning paper as if to warn me off. He's always grumpy in the morning, even though he's such an early riser. _

"_Okay!" I laugh, because he's so cute when he's grumpy, that little line between his eyebrows and pouty lip. "Well, I'm going to have some… Could you fill the kettle while I finish the eggs?" _

_He nods and stands up, picking up the kettle and putting it under the faucet. _

_The sunbeams spill in through the window like fingers pointing at him, glinting off red hair and orange eyes. _

"_Here you go." He hands it to me with a kiss I turn my cheek up for, but his lips are cold. _

_I look into the kettle, and it's empty. I look up at him with tears in my eyes. _

"_You said you would fill it." The rain smatters on the windowpanes like bullets. _

"_I did. It just didn't help." _

_I look into it, and it's heavy in my hands with water, but it's still dirty. I always thought that if he filled it for me… _

"_Maybe you should wash it yourself," he mutters from the table. _

"_I can't! I tried! Kyo-kun…" _

_I reach out, and he gives me his hand. _

_Mine drifts right through it without ever touching, and Akito catches it. He smiles at us both, putting a hand on Kyo's shoulder. _

"_See?" He says. "I told you." _

* * *

These are not his fears. 

He sits beside Kagura's bed, too tired to worry about her parents in the next room, too tired to risk lying down again.

She is wearing pajamas that look like Ritsu's, and he wonders numbly if that means she has borrowed one of the boys' for some reason or if Ritsu's were meant for girls after all.

Her hair is tangled and sweaty, and he trails his fingers through it over and over until it lies smooth and dry again, watching her eyes slow in their darting beneath their lids. It feels like velvet, her hair, warm and soft.

He feels the fear, sees the visions, makes them his, and smiles.

"You will not be forced to see," he says.

And Kagura stops dreaming.

XII. Hatori

He finally forces himself up, chanting over and over in his head that he's nearly done. He knows he should go to Kyo first, because he doesn't know that he'll be able to make his way back without their pain to pull him on. But he passes Hatori's room on the way, and he finds himself inside before he's thought it over.

Hatori, at least, has no parent hovering. No one else to bother them with their ordinary presence, and Akito clambers gratefully onto the Western-style bed, wrapping an arm around Hatori's own out flung limb.

* * *

_Ayame runs the brush through his hair again, staring fixedly at me in the mirror, where I stand behind him. His eyes dart over my face almost desperately, and I ask, "What are you doing?" _

_The tension leaves his face like clouds scudding across the sky, abruptly transformed to a dazzling smile as he leaps up and throws his arms around me. "Nothing, Tori-san! What should I be doing?" _

_I disentangle myself quickly, stepping back to re-establish the boundaries he and Shigure are so eager to trample. "I don't know. It looked like you were trying to learn my face by heart." _

_"Silly Tori-san," he says. He looks so happy, but his voice quavers. "I've always known your face by heart."_

_I turn to look at Shigure, his notebook propped inside his textbook to hide it, so that it looks as though he's taking notes in the margins. "There's no one to fool," I point out._

_He looks around, almost startled, and then laughs at one of us, though I'm not sure which one. "Ah, Ha-san's right. Old habits die hard, and all that." He gives me that look that says he's reading me like one of his books, memorizing each chapter while I'm still trying to decipher his first._

_Still, it's further than most people get._

_"You know me too well," he says._

_I answer, "Maybe."_

_Akito, who is eleven now but suddenly looks no older than six, tugs on the leg of my pants with both curled fists, tears in his eyes. "Hold me," he commands (pleads), and I scoop him up._

_"I'm special, aren't I?" He asks. "And without me, you wouldn't be, would you?"_

_I nod._

_"So why –"_

_I'm standing behind Aya again, hands on his shoulders this time. He shakes his head slowly. "You don't forget something you've learned by heart," he whispers. "It would take some of your heart with it."_

_I put my hands over his eyes and there is a flash of light behind my own._

_I'm kneeling in front of Shigure, who sets down his textbook, notebook, and pencil slowly. "Don't," he says, and there is no lie in his eyes this once, no veil, just fear. He has to know to be in control._

_So I hide his eyes for him and there is another flash._

_I'm holding Akito, whose lips curl back in a snarl. "If I don't know you, no one does," he promises before my hand covers his gleaming black eyes and a light that cannot reach far enough flashes._

_All three of them sit together, Akito on Shigure's lap, laughing at something the older boy has said. Ayame pours tea and manages to flirt outrageously with both his best friend and a child without seeming perverted._

_They're alone in the room now._

* * *

These are not his fears. 

Part of Akito, the part that is nothing but an eleven-year-old, had been convinced Hatori of all people would wake and do something for him, make it stop. If even Shigure failed him, then surely Hatori would take his place. But he doesn't. He is, after all, one of the juunishi, or Akito would not have come to depend on him so in the first place.

A vicious circle, Shigure would call it.

He does sigh in his sleep, and turn to make room for the smaller boy even through the troubled tossings, the wrinkles lining his brow. And that has to be enough.

Akito puts one hand on his shoulder, and strokes the cold cheek with his other.

He feels the fear, sees the visions, makes them his, and smiles.

"You will not disappear," he says.

And Hatori stops dreaming.

XIII. Kyo

Kyo's room is the farthest away, of course. This arrangement makes sense in the daylight.

The wind has gotten worse, or maybe it's the thinner walls here – are there thinner walls in this part of the House? He can't remember now. It's been a long while since the last lightening that he saw, with all the shutters bound tight, but now there is this one through the glass windows in this hall. It makes him jump, turning the corridor bone-white for an instant.

Then it's only the thunder again, a near-constant growl that vibrates in his chest, building to a crescendo every five minutes or so. Maybe much more or less; time has become very confusing.

It is at the very end of this hall that the door looms, waiting.

* * *

_Giving people what they want makes them happy, right? So, if I gave my dad what he wanted… he'd be happy?_

_The thing is, I can't picture him ever being happy. And part of me wants to see him get what he wants and know for sure that he won't ever be. He shouldn't be. Mom wasn't._

_"These are the kind of thoughts that make it necessary to separate you from the other children," Mom says primly. She doesn't sound like herself at all, actually._

_I shrug and walk away._

_Haru bumps my shoulder with his. Damn brat's taller than me again, too… "Let's train," he says, kicking at the grass._

_"Don't you have things to do with Momiji?"_

_"No." Haru's gone and it's someone else, my height, with gray hair and no face. "Of course I don't. I don't have anything to do."_

_"Cut that out! It's creepy."_

_"I thought you liked me better like this," the person says, but he has a face now, with big gray eyes and ears that almost stick out and lips so pale they're almost white._

_"I don't like you any way! You're disgusting! Filthy, murdering rat! You killed my mom!"_

_"Oh… did I?" He smiles innocently and everyone believes him. I'm the only one who sees…_

_"It's just another mask," I spit._

_"What of it? It makes people happy."_

_And then… we were fighting, of course we were… I know the rat doesn't take lessons, but he must have after all because he's good. Really, good._

_Just not as good as me._

_His left eye is swollen shut, lips cracked and bleeding, perfect little teeth stained with blood from the splits. Purple and yellow, green and red; he's bruised all over._

_And that's not what bothers me. He's crying. I guess he felt it after all…_

_"I told you," he says, and his face is gone again._

_"Yeah," I say, and stab down with the knife just as his face turns into mine._

_Akito puts a hand on my shoulder, which is tiny and frail. My chest feels tight, like breath is a privilege, one that could be rescinded at any moment. My clothes are very clean and neat, something I automatically check. I push my hair behind my ear, because Akito likes it when I do that._

_"The rat always wins," I say, looking at the red-haired corpse on the ground._

_"Yes." Akito's hand slides down my arm to wrap around my wrist. He tugs me away as he continues, "So the one who wins must be the rat."_

_"It's sad though, isn't it?" I ask nervously, keeping my voice low. I don't want to upset him, and he doesn't like loud noises any more than he likes the cold. "He broke his promise."_

I'll kill him and then –

_"What promise?"_

_"Oh…" I look over the edge of the bridge. It's a long way down to the ice, bordered by green summer grass. "Never mind." And then I jump._

* * *

These are not his fears.

The room is nearly pitch black, and though he lingers in the doorway, this is not why.

He can feel Kyo's fear all the more clearly as it's almost the only one left. It isn't enough to debilitate him. He could leave it as it is.

The cat doesn't deserve any better.

But he finds himself at the edge of Kyo's pallet, one hand already out, reaching for the source of the hoarse whimpers. What he finds first, though, is not the small, wiry boy always yelling and spitting like fire in a hearth. Something solid and calm, something that makes him think of earth, a mountain. Long hair slides through his fingers and he flinches back as though burned after all.

So. The cat, the cat out of all of them… Kazuma, even through all this, the spell on the house, has moved beside his boy, his "son." He'll move back before morning, because Kyo does not enjoy the touch of others when awake, but right now he has someone who will hold him through his thrashing, sweating fear until he finally calms on his own.

Akito leans over, finding the wiry orange hair with his fingers as his dark eyes narrow. If Kyo thinks he can do this alone… that he can put Kazuma between them… then he can't let go of this fear. He and Kyo will feel it together.

Kazuma cannot do that.

He feels the fear, sees the visions, makes them his, and smiles.

He says nothing.

And Kyo keeps dreaming.

XIV. Akito

"What are you doing?" The question is not a baffled request for rationalization, but an honest enquiry. She wants to know.

Akito is sitting, knees to his chest and arms curled around them. He's cold and worn, empty, sore, but he can't bring himself to move. "I have no need to explain myself to you," he hisses.

Ren looks around the darkened corridor, occasionally washed with white from the lightening, vibrating when the thunder builds, as if she will see something to explain her son's presence.

"Visiting someone?"

He glares, but is too tired to answer.

"All right, you have your little secrets." Her eyes glint playfully, confidant that she will discover what she wants to know soon enough. They remind him of Shigure, those eyes, and that makes him nervous. "But you know, you're going to be sick now, wandering about in this."

She turns to go with an ostentatious shrug at his silence, the dim glow of resentment at the bond she can't touch in her eyes. At least, that is what Akito sees in the glow.

And he says, "Why are you up?"

She stops and says, without turning, "Someone has to watch them."

"I do that."

"You try." She turns back now, and stoops, arms outstretched. It's been two years now since she hit him last, and still he flinches.

For the first time in those two years, she ignores his reaction and lifts him into her arms, standing easily.

Akito thinks of everything she's done, and everything he's done, and that he should find out why she's doing this.

His eyes drift closed, and his head drops onto her shoulder.

Sohma Ren walks slowly, rocking the boy in her arms as his body goes limp with sleep, meandering through the halls toward his rooms. Somewhere, things went so wrong, she muses.

When she came to work in the Main House.

When she met Akira.

When she married Akira.

When their child was born a god.

Or maybe there's nowhere to put it, exactly, and there were a million possible beginnings she's let pass her by.

But right now, she can pretend.

So she walks, breathing the scent of the sleeping child, and humming.

_"Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee,_

_"All through the night…"_

XV. Morning (Epilogue/ Alternate Ending)

Shigure stumbles out into the horrible, cruel sunlight of the porch and stops. The world is beautiful, as though overnight it's been transformed into the Ice Queen's palace. Ice coats everything, imprisoning the House, the trees, the wall, the plants in the garden with a sheen that glares in the morning light.

Yes, it's breathtaking. A nearly invisible, shimmering, protective prison.

He wonders idly how long it will be before the weight crushes the things it holds.

Hatori has come up behind him, and Shigure does not turn to face him.

They stare at the ice, dripping in the sun, and finally Hatori says, "Ayame's going to be up soon. He'll want you."

"Oh, Ha-san, everyone wants me. You have no idea what a burden it is."

Hatori made a disgusted sound in his throat. "You'd better be ready for him. Akito will be… interested in your company… soon after."

"One of those nights."

"Yes."

"Then you'd better be there when he wakes."

"Mm."

And the moment passes; they don't talk about those nights. They don't like what it reminds them of, or what they don't know to be reminded of.

Both boys turn to go in. Hatori waits to slide the doors shut; it's just the kind of thing Shigure would forget.

"So, Ha-san…" Shigure looks over his shoulder as they make their way to their respective posts, ones they will trade when their charges are ready. Hatori can tell by the gleam in his eyes and the curl in his lips that he is not, after all, quite ready to consign the night to the traditional silence which has served the family so well for the past generations.

"May I assume you had pleasant dreams?"

* * *

Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee,

All through the night;

Guardian angels God will send thee,

All through the night;

Safe the drowsy hours are creeping,

Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,

I my loving vigil keeping,

All through the night.

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While the moon her watch is keeping,

All through the night;

While the weary world is sleeping,

All through the night;

O'er thy spirit gently stealing,

Visions of delight revealing,

Breathes a pure and holy feeling

All through the night.

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Hark, a solemn bell is ringing,

Clear through the night;

You, my love, are heav'nward winging,

Home through the night.

Earthly dust from off thee shaken,

By good angels art though taken;

Soul immortal shalt thou waken,

Home through the night.

* * *

AN: First and foremost, you all know what I must have. Come to me, my loves. Reviews – my anti-drug.

So! Yes, "Kindle My Heart."

I have the soundtrack to the 1995 version of _A Little Princess_ – which is the movie Patrick Doyle recorded it for – and I can tell ya this right now: track 19, "Take My Heart", is not my favorite song ever in the same way that leprosy is not my favorite disease ever. However, track 28, the last song, "The Goodbye," has a version tacked on where Liesel Matthews, who plays Sarah, sings the song. She is not a singer, but she's more to my liking than Abigail Doyle (who sings the real thing), and she has a very distinctive voice. If you've seen the movie, you can't mistake it.


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